


Saving the World

by fabrega



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s05e16 Brain Storm, M/M, Originally Posted on LiveJournal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-20
Updated: 2009-05-20
Packaged: 2019-07-05 05:48:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15857478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabrega/pseuds/fabrega
Summary: "I was going to ask Ronon to go camping," John says, whining a little.





	Saving the World

**Author's Note:**

> An AU for Brain Storm (5x16), starting from the premise _what if Keller had said no?_ Originally written  & posted on LJ in 2009, moved to AO3 in August 2018 with minor edits for spelling/clarity.

"I was going to ask Ronon to go camping," John says, whining a little. Rodney has asked him to attend some kind of boring awful science conference--and _admitted_ that it most likely will be boring and awful, which was probably not a good opening move. "Wouldn't someone like Zelenka have a much better time at this thing?"

"I asked Dr. Keller," Rodney says, not quite in reply, "But she has some kind of family thing going on."

"I'm flattered to know I'm your second choice, McKay."

"It's just that these are--well, not my _peers_ exactly, because the sort of work I'm doing here is light years ahead--"

"--away--" John quietly interjects.

"--of what they're doing, but--they're going to compare themselves to me, and you are...not the kind of person they'd expect as my plus one."

"Not your sister?"

Rodney glares at him. "I talked to Teyla too; she and Kanaan are going on some kind of romantic getaway next week. Did you know they've asked Ronon to babysit?" 

John's forehead crinkles up. _That_ can only end well.

Rodney continues, "The last thing she wants to do is go to this thing."

"So you ran out of people with boobs to ask and you're coming to me."

Rodney casts a furtive glance around--unnecessarily, as they're in John's quarters--and hisses, "Look, we've _talked_ about this--"

"Just stop _complaining_ , Rodney, I'll go. I won't wear my dress blues, but I'll go." John stands up, gives him a friendly punch on the shoulder. (Affection is not the easiest thing, but the way relief washes over Rodney's face makes him happy.)

*

"This is weird," John says. They are standing at the airport in suits, waiting to board a private jet.

"It is a little weird," Rodney agrees, shifting nervously back and forth. "I mean, it's definitely not _normal_ , getting picked up in a private jet for a science conference. Malcolm's just showing off."

"I've met those guys before: egos bigger than their dicks but still convinced that waving them around is the only way to convince you how awesome they are, right?" John says as they are escorted out onto the tarmac.

Rodney stares at him for a minute, disbelieving. "Well, _yeah_ , but--"

"And that's why I'm along!" John finishes, smiling smugly.

"It would be nice if they thought I had important friends, yes, but please don't get into any _actual_ dick-waving contests with anyone," Rodney replies, and John just laughs.

They drink champagne on the flight.

*

"Dinosaurs?" Rodney asks the man behind the counter, waving the pen at him accusingly. The NDA they're expected to sign is something like 200 pages long, and Rodney is having none of it. "Because I'll sign this if he's brought dinosaurs back to life."

"Or a mammoth," John adds distractedly, flipping through the pages of the packet. He looks up, and Rodney's thought he's found something in the paperwork to object to, but instead he adds excitedly, "Or the Loch Ness Monster."

Rodney snorts. "Surely you don't believe in the Loch Ness Monster."

"There was a lot of stuff I didn't believe in," John returns cryptically, looking back at his packet. "Look where that got me." He makes a face. "Rodney, one of these sentences goes on for _two pages_."

"Gentlemen," the man behind the counter interjects, sounding annoyed, "You are holding up the check-in process. No one can make you sign the forms, but if you're not going to, I will have to ask you to leave."

Rodney sighs dramatically, but signs the final page of the packet. John follows suit--his sigh is more sarcastic than anything--and they head into the reception area.

*

John pulls uncomfortably at the collar of his dress shirt. "Please tell me this is the most awkward part," he murmurs to Rodney, who is standing beside him, eyeing the finger sandwiches and looking unhappy.

"Awkward?"

"Rodney, we're at a reception full of nerds who don't know _how_ to make small talk. This is worse than a Star Trek convention."

"Now, I resent that--" Rodney begins, finally making a move towards the buffet table.

"No, I know, I went to one with my college roommate, Steve. At least everyone _there_ liked each other, in theory." They've made it to the buffet table and John has procured several small pastry puffs. He bites into one gingerly.

"Wait, you've been to a Star Trek convention? How is this just coming out now?!"

"You're still proud that I could have been in MENSA, McKay; if you knew that I'd met Uhura I'd never hear the end of 'my wasted potential'."

The tiny sandwich has stopped halfway up to Rodney's gaping mouth. John can tell that he is still fumbling for a reply when they are approached by two men who look, to John at least, vaguely familiar.

"Rodney!" says the taller one, "I never expected to see you here."

"Yeah, you pretty much dropped off the face of the earth," says the other. "Wherever you've been, you certainly haven't been publishing."

John sees how Rodney sets his jaw. They've talked about it before, how Rodney doesn't like having to keep all the fantastic things he's done a secret. John didn't really understand until now. "And you gentlemen are--?" he asks, hoping to somehow defuse the situation. 

The men look startled, like they had thought that Rodney and John just happened to be standing next to each other, and then look quickly to Rodney, who sighs and begins introductions. "John, this is Neil Degrasse Tyson and Bill Nye."

"The Science Guy?" The words are out of John's mouth before he can stop them. Rodney gives him an unhappy look.

"Yes, _The Science Guy_. Neil, Bill, this is Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard."

The two scientists look surprised. Bill Nye says, "I never would have guessed you were in bed with the military, McKay!"

The corner of John's mouth twitches up, ever so slightly.

"So what, he's your handler? Your lab assistant?" The surprise has faded from Neil Degrasse Tyson's face and has been replaced with the same amused near-contempt.

"His friend," John replies for Rodney. He sounds so fiercely loyal, and Rodney wants to beam.

*

"Wait a second," John whispers to Rodney as Malcolm unveils his grand scheme to combat global warming, "Isn't that the thing we did? Where we met that cooler version of you?"

Rodney is too angry to be insulted, even just for show. " _What the hell._ " he hisses back, and John is suddenly aware that there is no way this can end well. He _knows_ Rodney is going to stand up and demand an end to this dangerous foolishness (and probably demand some credit for it as well) and yet when Rodney starts to his feet, he still slinks down in his seat.

*

Back in the atrium, it is indeed getting cooler. They are standing next to a cardboard cutout of Malcolm Tunney that doubles as a thermometer, and Rodney looks like he wants to tear its head off.

"You say the word, I will be on the phone with the SGC," John says quietly, looking around at the scientists. They all seem impressed. If the decision had been up to him--and there is no reason that it's not, other than that these are Rodney's People--Stargate Command would have been notified before the damn thing had even been turned on.

"We can't call the military. They'll think I needed you people to protect me, to do my dirty work," Rodney replies, still staring angrily at Malcolm's cardboard neck. John knows this insult isn't really directed at him.

"So what do _you_ have planned, exactly?" John starts to ask, but Rodney has already dashed off into a corridor. John groans and follows after him.

*

Dr. Tunney confronts them with evidence of Rodney's supposed sabotage--he had snuck into Tunney's office and broke into his computer in the hopes of finding evidence of the paper he and Jeannie had written about their space bridge. On the surveillance footage, John is standing at the door while Rodney is hunched over the laptop.

"This is a really shitty plan, Rodney," the image of John says, looking impatiently out into the hallway.

The image of Rodney shoots him a dirty look. "You and I both know that this is my research; he's stealing from me, he's stealing from Jeannie, and he's stealing from Rod. For all we know, that's where he's venting all this heat! I just need proof."

The tape doesn't quite catch what John on camera says next; John who is watching knows that his comment about that universe's Sheppard's MENSA meetings having enough hot air already was not really appropriate, nor would it be helpful in this circumstance.

"Someone's coming," the video John warns, "I am not beating up anyone for you today, McKay. Let's move."

The tall man John has assumed is rent-a-cop security stops the tape there. He is frowning. "Tell us what you've done to the machine and we may not press charges," he says in a voice that tries to be menacing.

"We didn't do anything!" Rodney is indignant.

John doesn't like what this line of questioning seems to imply. "What's wrong with it?"

"You would know!" Tunney sneers, and suddenly it is John who charges to his feet, dragging the horrible little scientist out of his chair and shoving him up against the wall. The bottom drops out of Rodney's stomach.

"Look, _Doctor_ , we are not going to play these stupid games anymore. Everyone in this room knows that the research for this project isn't yours. I don't care about that. So why don't you man the hell up and tell the one person on this planet who can fix your problem what is wrong." John is aware of the security man at his side with some kind of stun gun aimed at him, and two more coming in from the hallway. It doesn't seem to matter. "Because that is what Dr. Rodney McKay _does_."

And Rodney is panicking, the room seems to get smaller and focus directly in on John and where his arm is pinning Malcolm Tunney to the wall, but this almost makes it all okay.

*

They have rallied the scientists in the atrium, explained to them the problem--the self-sustaining space-time bridge won't shut off and will continue to suck heat from the facility until they can stop it--and set them at it. Whiteboards have appeared, and they are followed shortly by bickering.

(John doesn't bother to offer to help. He knows that Rodney knows he can follow the math, mostly, and that no one else here would believe that he has a degree in math from MIT.)

When the arguing becomes too much to take, John stalks off into the deserted auditorium. He pulls out his cell and checks for reception. Still nothing.

He turns at footsteps behind him--it's Tunney's security man, looking almost sympathetic. "It's tough, not being able to do anything, having to just let the 'geniuses' work," the other man says.

John nods. He is all too familiar with this feeling. In his darker moments, he admits to himself that this greater feeling of helplessness is probably part of why, when it comes to it, he has been so eager to take the ship with the nukes and make his own little difference, no matter the cost. He's lost track of how many times everyone's lives have all depended on Rodney.

"I have to ask, Colonel," the man continues, " What will you put about this in your report?"

John shakes his head. "I'm not here officially," he replies. "I'm on vacation, technically. Some vacation."

The security man chuckles. "Now I _really_ don't envy you."

John makes a sarcastic face. "Yeah, I've had better days." He's going to add more, but a beam of what looks like electricity shoots straight through the auditorium and leaves a giant white blotch on the wall behind him. 

"It...it's _ice_ ," John says disbelievingly after prodding the spot with carefully with his finger. "That can't be good."

A scream issues from the atrium, and John rushes out. A scientist has been flash-frozen by a similar phenomenon, and everyone is throwing a fit. Above the crowd, John catches Rodney's eye; Rodney's gaze clearly asks: _what do we do?_

*

Rodney, of course, saves the day. John has taken Malcolm's cell phone and headed towards the roof in the hopes of getting some reception, to call in the military, when suddenly it all stops. The cries of celebration from below are so loud John can hear them in the stairwell, three flights up. He leans against the unopened door and sighs in relief.

On the private jet on the way home, John shifts back into his seat contentedly. It's all _over_. Rodney is...weirdly apologetic. "I want to be able to say that sort of thing is a fluke, that disaster doesn't seem to follow me around, but you know that's not true," he says, picking up a cold strawberry from the dish between them and passing it back and forth between his hands.

"You're good at saving the world," John replies nonchalantly, with a shrug. "So what? So am I."

Rodney chuckles. "Well, somebody's got to do it."

John pours another glass of champagne. He's feeling quite a bit better. This vacation might turn out to be not so bad after all.

Rodney finally bites the strawberry he's been nervously fiddling with, then spits it out in surprise. "Is that a picture of Malcolm with the Dalai Lama? Framed on his private jet?! Seriously!?"

Nope, it's going to be a long flight home.


End file.
